"Robertson-HuntingGround" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robertson R Garcia Y)

R. GARCIA ROBERTSON

HAPPY HUNTING GROUND

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There is no general sign, except to combine the signs for DEATH, BEYOND, and
INHABIT, denoting a land beyond death and living . . .

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It is impossible to learn at this late date what the Indians believed prior to
our advent, but I am inclined to think they always pictured a hereafter of clear
waters, white tipis, and good hunting. Our missionaries have earnestly sought to
convince them that there is a hell of eternal torture, as surely as there is a
heaven of endless bliss. Though Indians freely admit that whites may and
probably will go to hell, I have yet to meet an Indian who believes in his heart
that any Indians will go there.

-- Indian Sign Language, Capt W.P. Clark, 2nd Car, 1884

The Iron Road

We saddled up our stolen horses and rode south, leaving Lakota Country for
Indian Territory. In four sleeps we were past Court House Rock, between the
Forks of the Platte, old familiar territory to my husband. Summer heat cast hazy
moats around the monuments. Riding knee to knee, we talked half in Sheyenna,
half in English, still exploring each other's tongues, filling gaps with pidgin
Lakota and sign talk, acting out words, smiling at each other's antics. Yellow
Legs wore a stained Medicine shirt and plain leggings. I had on my white doeskin
dress, slit for riding. Each morning he braided my blonde hair, painting it red
at the parting to show the world how proud he was.

Raven trailed behind us, dragging a pony travois with Nothing on board, acting
the dutiful Sheyenna wife, a role she relished more than anything--except maybe
the baby behind her.

Yellow Legs had that aboriginal ability to memorize ground as effortlessly as a
seasoned actor learning Shakespeare, and he kept up a running commentary--not on
what we were seeing, but on what lay just over the flat horizon. What the
country would be like. Where we would find water. It was one of his best
Medicine tricks. He pointed out hidden creek beds, and the remains of an army
camp where he and Crazy Horse had gotten many American horses with the Long
Knife mark on their hips -- he traced a U.S. in the air with his finger.

Anything out of place got instant attention. A smudge of smoke or dust. A
peculiar animal movement. Several times he saw the bones of buffalo that had not
been there before. Each time Yellow Legs dismounted, piously turning the eyeless
skulls to face the sunrise and rebirth, doing his part to assure the yearly
return of the buffalo. On the ground he was bowlegged, from a life on horseback,